Whatever It Takes
by whirlyite
Summary: One of our heroes is forced to come to terms with the 'win at all costs' mentality.  Be warned, contains brief yet graphic description of casualties.  Oneshot.


**Whatever It Takes**

Kinch could no longer keep silent as he sat at the radio watching his commanding officer pace incessantly. "Colonel, would you do me a favor and sit still for a moment? It's really distracting." He needed to focus his undivided attention upon the expected confirmation from the Underground.

"No can do Kinch. He's four hours late. What on earth happened?" The Colonel always fretted about his men when they were out on solo missions and even more so when it involved being out during broad daylight.

Kinch shrugged and sighed as he had no answer to the Colonel's question. Then his attention was snagged by the radio chuttering to life and he anxiously pressed the headphone to his ear. He nodded to himself as he transcribed the Morse transmission onto his pad of blue paper.

"Confirmation sir! He did complete the mission."

"Thanks Kinch." At least that was something, but it was small comfort; he should've been back no more than an hour after he delivered the message. _Where __was __he?_

* * *

><p>He simply couldn't erase the heartbreakingly graphic images from his mind. He knew with a dreadful certainty that they would remain burned in his consciousness for as long as he drew breath. He tasted bile on the back of his throat yet again and paused at the entrance to the emergency tunnel to step back into the concealment of a thick, low hedge for a moment. <em>Get <em>_a __'old __of __yerself, __Peter!_ To his great dismay, he found himself again retching and shaking uncontrollably. _What __the __'ell __is __wrong __wi' __me?_ He sat down and lowered his head into his hands, remaining there for many interminable minutes whilst he tried to regain some measure of composure. _Is __this __what __we've __come __to? __Is __that __what __I __did? __Cor!_ He finally pulled himself together and slowly got up to his feet.

Moving like a very old man, he staggered haltingly towards the tree stump. He fumbled with the clasp until he finally got the hatch open and climbed down. He nearly fell halfway down as his grip on the ladder unexpectedly faltered and he found himself enveloped by two sets of strong arms. He blinked in confusion as he was quickly ushered to a seat on a nearby cot. Someone gently grasped his chin and turned his face towards them. They spoke to him urgently; the voice sounded tinny and indistinct, like someone speaking from the far end of a very long tunnel.

"Newkirk? Newkirk!" It was the Colonel.

He couldn't answer. He blinked and shook his head, trying his best to comprehend.

"Check him out Kinch!"

He felt the civilian clothes he wore being taken off his body, followed by the gentle yet thorough touch of his friend's hands. He shivered and a blanket was draped over his shoulders in lieu of his clothes as the hands finished their examination.

"I can't find any obvious injuries Colonel." Kinch picked up the clothes he had taken off his friend and scrutinized them closer. "Though his clothes are covered in some kind of fine dust and they smell like they've been burnt." He reached down to put a steadying hand on his English friend's shoulder. "Peter, what happened?"

The tangible worry in Kinch's voice finally penetrated the thick fog that paralyzed his mind. He licked his lips and struggled to speak, suddenly aware of his friends' panicked concern. "I…I'm...all...right..." he mumbled.

"No, no you're not, Peter," whispered Kinch.

The Colonel spoke softly, "C'mon Peter. Lie down." Hands pushed gently at his shoulders, forcing him to lie back onto the cot.

He continued to try to tell them he was okay, even though he fully realized he wasn't. "I'm...uh...I'm..." His voice gradually faded out as the leaden weariness finally claimed him.

Kinch shook his head sadly as the Colonel spread another blanket over the still form on the cot. He stood back and sighed. "Keep an eye on him for me, will you Kinch?"

"Will do sir," Kinch replied as he pulled a stool up to the side of the cot.

The figure on the cot remained motionless for the next several hours. Kinch had gotten up to stretch his legs and get a fresh cup of coffee. He returned to find his friend stirring feebly and taking entirely too long to return to consciousness. It was almost as if he didn't want to.

"Peter?" He gently shook the Englishman by the shoulder and sought to reassure him. "Wake up buddy. You're safe, you're down in the tunnel." He leaned down to try to understand his friend's mumbled reply. "Peter?"

"Cover…'em…cover 'em up…please?" Newkirk suddenly vaulted to consciousness with a loud shout. "For God's sake, cover 'em up!" He lay rigidly on the cot, eyes wide and staring, hands balled into fists. He was breathing rapidly, nearly hyperventilating.

Kinch frowned and slid his arm beneath Newkirk's shoulders, gently easing him up to a sitting position. He kept his hand on Newkirk's back and spoke soothingly, trying to calm him. "Peter, whatever it is, it's over for now. Okay? You're back at camp, down in the tunnel. C'mon Peter. Look at me!" He grasped Newkirk's chin and turned his face towards him. "Look at me Peter. It's your old buddy Kinch. Everything's all right, okay?"

Newkirk shuddered, then blinked repeatedly. A spark of recognition finally sharpened his eyes. "Kinch? Where…where am I?"

Kinch winced inwardly. _He __hasn__'__t __heard __a __word __I __said!_ "You're down in the tunnel Peter. You've been asleep for the last few hours. You're safe buddy."

"I 'ave? Don't…feel rested." He sighed heavily and pulled Kinch's hand from his face. "I'm…all right Kinch."

Kinch shook his head. "I didn't believe you the first time and I don't believe you now, Peter. You're not all right." He knew better than to ask the Englishman why he was so distraught. That simply wasn't the way to get Newkirk to talk.

"No…reckon I'm…not. I…I saw somethin' I really wish I…hadn't. You don't want to know Kinch. Trust me." He gazed blankly at the opposite wall as he spoke. Kinch moved his hand to gently grasp Newkirk's shoulder.

"You need to tell someone Peter, and it might as well be me."

Newkirk shook his head. "I…I can't…," he whispered. "I…just…can't…" he lowered his head and unsuccessfully tried to hold in his sobs.

Kinch knew something had to be very wrong for Newkirk to display this naked emotion and he reached to embrace the Englishman as he shuddered in tears. He tried to soothe his friend. "It's okay Peter. Get it all out. You need to get it all out and this is the best way."

A few minutes passed before Newkirk was able to calm down. He swiped at his eyes as he pulled himself from Kinch's grasp with an embarrassed smile. "Thanks…mate. Sorry…"

Kinch frowned. "You've nothing to apologize for, Peter. Whatever you saw obviously has you upset."

Newkirk nodded slowly, then sighed and sat silent, his head bowed. Kinch got up and returned with a cup of cool water. "Here Peter, drink this."

"Thanks Kinch."

"I'll be right back buddy. Will you be okay?"

Newkirk finished the water and handed the empty cup back to Kinch. "Yeah mate. I'll be okay," he answered dully.

Kinch frowned. The Englishman didn't sound okay to him, but the Colonel had asked to be informed when he woke up. He leaned down and gently patted Newkirk's arm. "I won't be gone very long."

Newkirk nodded wearily. He had a good idea of why Kinch was going topsides and he wasn't looking forward to having to explain to the Colonel why he was in such bad shape. He fervently wished he hadn't woken up.

Kinch was as good as his word, for he returned in less than five minutes with the Colonel right behind him. The Colonel looked closely at his English Corporal, his eyes sharpened by concern.

"I'm glad to see you're awake Peter. How do you feel?"

He tried to put a light hearted spin to his reply and failed miserably. "I'll be right as rain in a bit sir."

Hogan nodded knowingly and turned to Kinch. "Kinch would you mind if I spoke to Peter alone?"

"Not at all sir." He reached over to squeeze Newkirk's shoulder. "See you later Peter."

"Ta mate."

"We'll be up later Kinch."

Kinch nodded and headed topsides. The bunk slammed shut and Hogan looked expectantly at Newkirk, who sighed tremulously before he turned to face his CO. "I suppose you'll be wantin' to know what 'appened out there."

"Something like that, yes." Hogan didn't push and sat back in his chair, simply waiting for Newkirk to open up to him.

The Englishman took a deep breath and briefly closed his eyes. "I…I was on me way to deliver the film to our contact. As I got into the city…it…it had been bombed the night before." He leaned his head onto his hand and rubbed his eyes. "Cor! I tried to give it a wide berth sir but I 'ad to take a route through some of the 'ardest 'it areas, 'ouses, apartment buildings and such. The bobbies and soldiers were pullin' people out of the wreckage, both livin' and dead. One of 'em noticed me passin' by and ordered me to 'elp 'em clear out a basement…and…and…" His voice nearly broke and he stopped to take several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.

"Peter…" Hogan started to speak but Newkirk interrupted him.

"Colonel, I…I 'ad to do it! I tried to beg off but…I 'ad to! Didn't need 'em to get the wind up and take a closer look at me, if you know what I mean…"

Hogan nodded. He didn't blame his Englishman for his decision. Newkirk certainly didn't need unnecessary attention cast upon him with the secret film he was carrying.

Newkirk raised his anguished eyes to his CO and breathed fast and hard as he spoke. "Oh God Colonel! There was...was...a whole cellar full of 'em! Women, old men, children, babes in arms..." he choked and lowered his head. "They were pullin' 'em out in...in pieces! The flesh fell right off their bones like...like...they were...cooked…" He swallowed hard to keep the returning bile at bay. "God! They…were...roasted…roasted like a Christmas goose they was!"

The Colonel sat beside him and put an arm around his shoulders. "Peter..."

"Colonel, there weren't any military or industrial targets there! The bleedin' railroad was way on the other side of town. It wasn't even hit! And they didn't use high explosives…the town was deliberately firebombed! Please tell me the truth Colonel...is…is Bomber Command deliberately targeting civilians?"

Hogan sighed. He had hoped to keep that knowledge from his RAF Corporal if at all possible. He had received a private briefing on the controversial strategy "Bomber" Harris had implemented on one of his rare overnight trips to London.

The expression on his CO's face told Newkirk that he had guessed right. "I don't understand Colonel! 'ow does this make us better than the Krauts? 'ow?" Hogan shook his head as Newkirk persisted. "'ow does that make us any different, will you answer me that?" His voice rose in agitation.

"I can't give you an answer Peter! All we can do is conduct our activities here as best as we can to ensure that no civilians get hurt."

"But we're just like _them_ Colonel! Just like what they did to London and all the other cities back 'ome! Liverpool, Portsmouth, Dover, Gosport, Newcastle, I could go on and on and on!" He angrily swiped at his eyes. "I was in Bomber Command...I was 'angin off the tail of a Wimpy durin' the Bremen raid when I was shot down." He raised a tear stained face to his CO. "I'm just like them! I'm no better than those Krauts what killed women and children in London! I...bombed those...'elpless civilians...I..." He suddenly leapt up from the cot and rushed down the emergency tunnel. He came to a stop facing the ladder, tightly gripping it as if it were the only thing keeping him on his feet. He leaned his forehead against the rough wood and gulped great mouthfuls of air, trying to calm himself.

The Colonel pulled up behind him and grasped him firmly by the shoulders. "Peter, listen to me! You were shot down way before this policy was formally implemented. How could it possibly be your fault?" He leaned in to speak directly into his RAF Corporal's ear. "Listen to me! The responsibility lies directly with command! Peter? Please look at me."

He tightened his grip and forced Newkirk to turn around and face him. "Open your eyes Peter, look at me!" The Colonel looked into a pair of agonized green eyes. "I would never, ever order you to do something that would deliberately injure any civilian. Do you understand me? I can't tell you how sorry I am you had to see that. There's an entirely different war out there from the one we're fighting from within our little stalag. There are those who believe we have to do whatever it takes to break the Nazis. I don't necessarily agree with that, but then again, it doesn't matter what I think. History will be the ultimate judge of those decisions. I thank God we don't have to make those kind of decisions and I pray I will never be told to give an order like that."

They both stood there silently for a long time before a tentative voice softly whispered back, "I do too sir. Cor, I 'ope you never 'ave to give an order like that!"

Hogan kept his hands firmly on his Englishman's shoulders as he spoke, "Peter, I know this sounds callous and harsh, but I need you to do this one thing for me. I need you to try your best to not think about what you saw today." He shook his head as Newkirk drew breath to interrupt. "No, please listen to me. You'll only drive yourself mad and I need you to be strong on my team right through to the end. Every man has a breaking point Peter. Please don't bring yours about by dwelling on this. Concentrate on our mission instead. Maybe in our own small way we can shorten this war for the sake of the civilians of both sides. How does that sound?"

Newkirk stared at his CO for a long moment and then nodded slightly. He stumbled as his knees suddenly buckled, and the Colonel wrapped his arms around him to keep him from falling. Hogan hoped that he had gotten through to his traumatized RAF Corporal as he slowly guided him back down the tunnel.

"C'mon my friend. Let's get you topsides so you can get some more rest." He glanced sideways at Newkirk. "Are you going to be all right? The guys are worried about you."

He nodded wearily. "I'll be all right in a bit sir. It'll just take...some…time." He made a weak attempt at a smile. "Could use another lil' kip if it's alright with you."

Hogan shook his head at Newkirk's brave attempt at normalcy. "Of course it is. LeBeau's making hot cocoa. Let's get you a cup or two and then you can get that little kip."

"Thanks Colonel." He trusted his commanding officer implicitly. It was going to take quite some time but he knew he'd eventually be able to put this horrible episode behind him. LeBeau's cocoa and his mates' concerned care were a good start.

"C'mon soldier, let's go." The Colonel led him towards the entrance to the barracks with an arm still supporting him about his shoulders.

Newkirk accepted his CO's help without comment as they slowly made their way back up to the barracks.

LeBeau met them both at the tunnel bunk as they climbed up. Kinch had alerted him as to Newkirk's state of mind. He put a gentle hand on his English friend's arm. "Pierre, I saved some lunch for you. Are you hungry?"

Newkirk shook his head. "Thanks Louis, but I don't feel much like eatin' right now. Maybe later?"

LeBeau nodded and headed back to the stove as Hogan guided his RAF Corporal to his bunk. "Will you be able to rest here? You're welcome to the bottom bunk in my quarters."

Newkirk slipped into his uniform then slowly hefted himself up to his bunk and stretched out onto his stomach. "I'll be fine 'ere sir, thanks all the same. I…I think I need to be around me mates if you don't mind."

Hogan understood. "That's fine Peter. I've asked the guys to keep the noise down so you can get some rest."

"Thanks Gov."

LeBeau handed a steaming mug to Hogan, who in turn handed it up carefully. "Watch out! It's hot." The Colonel turned to the Frenchman. "Hey, that smells great! Where's mine?"

"Right here mon Colonel." LeBeau produced another steaming hot mug and Hogan sat down at the head of the common table, right where he could keep an eye on the occupant of the upper bunk. He glanced up at his Englishman and sighed noiselessly.

Newkirk tilted his head down on his forearm as he waited for the cocoa to cool. After a few moments, he took a sip and gratefully savored the small pleasure of the rich chocolaty sweetness. He nodded his approval to LeBeau who smiled back at him in reply. He finished the cocoa and leaned his head down again, watching his mates as they hovered just close enough to be a comfort to him. He sighed and closed his eyes, resolved to try to put the events of the day behind him. As difficult as it seemed, he resolved to take his CO's advice and lay the gruesome images in his mind to rest. He simply had to if he was to retain his sanity. He finally drifted off, secure in the knowledge that his friends were close by.

LeBeau quietly moved to take the empty cup from Newkirk's hand. He spread a blanket over his now sleeping friend and gestured to the other men with a finger to his lips as he returned to the stove to begin preparing their dinner.


End file.
